


For All the Lovers and the Believers

by jusrecht



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of WonKyu drabbles and ficlets. Various ratings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****

**not with a bang but with a kiss**

 

All it takes is one glance across the span of the ballroom, over twirling pairs in tuxedoes and gaudy-coloured dresses.

 

Siwon recognises him at first sight. He moves, descending onto marble floor where his polished dress shoes mingle with many dancing others. The man has disappeared when he arrives, leaving his lady partner in the attentive arms of another man.

 

Siwon does not pause. His feet carry him outside, upstairs, past tall white columns and walls lined with soft-shaded paintings. He has memorised the blueprint of the building in his head, all the shortcuts, back stairs, and airshafts, combined into twenty-six different permutations to go from where he is to the eleventh-floor office. Using the shortest course, he arrives in precisely one minute and eight seconds.

 

That his enemy knows the exact same route is evident when he opens the door and finds the man inside, a sheaf of paper in his hand.

 

“Freeze.”

 

He steps in, the muzzle of his gun aimed at the intruder’s forehead. It is the same man, the same face which stares back at him from a blurry snapshot in his mission details files. Siwon does not need to remember the name—after three months of dancing around each other, it is engraved so deeply in the back of his mind to the point of indelibility. Cho Kyuhyun is his archenemy, and a very dangerous man by any standard.

 

“Step away from the desk,” he orders, earning himself a raised eyebrow from the other man.

 

“Say please.”

 

“Please,” Siwon deadpans, pretending that Cho Kyuhyun’s voice does not send a dangerous shiver down his spine.

 

His command is obeyed with a slow-spreading smirk. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

 

He blinks, and that is his first mistake. Siwon does not have enough time to adjust his aim and fire at a non-vital body part when Kyuhyun kicks the gun out of his grip. He deflects the second blow, but another quickly follows, then another, and another, each delivered with precision and just enough force to occupy his entire attention. There is no window for him to reach down and take his other gun, tucked in an ankle holster.

 

Which means that he has to change his target to that of his opponent’s—the papers.

 

True to his prediction, Kyuhyun falters, changing into defensive for a split of a second. But it is more than enough; Siwon does not waste time to lunge forward, taking custody of Kyuhyun’s wrists and restraining them against the edge of the desk. The stalemate is broken.

 

“Not so fast,” he growls, triumph lending a rougher edge to his voice.

 

The other man smiles in response. “My mistake.”

 

And then kisses him.

 

Siwon can literally _feel_ his mind going blank, the entire scope of his awareness centred on the warm lips pressed against his. Then it is over, too long but too soon, and his captive is suddenly no longer a captive. When he turns around, Kyuhyun is already crouching on the windowsill, the disputed papers safely tucked behind silk jacket.

 

A smirk, a wink, all wordlessly eloquent; then he tips himself backward and disappears over the brink.

 

Siwon swears that his heart stops beating for a moment. Then he hastens toward the window, only to discover that there is, in fact, a _wire_ (which clearly has been prepared beforehand), and not to mention the two men waiting on the ground, ready with a car which soon speeds away into the cloak of anonymity offered by the city at night.

 

It is not until about fifteen seconds later that Siwon realises he has lost this round—and because of a damned kiss.

 

**END**


	2. Drabble Dump

**president!siwon & chief-of-staff!kyuhyun **

  
“So tell me.”  
  
Kyuhyun raises his eyes, finding the president’s gaze on him. In the soft, pale hues of a winter afternoon, he suddenly looks years older.  
  
“This morning’s incident with the junior staffer, and then the Cabinet Minister’s gaffe, the Secretary of Defence’s speech in the afternoon, not to mention that message from the NSA and just now, the phone call from my mother—this entire day has been orchestrated to lead me to this decision. Am I right?”  
  
Kyuhyun does not answer; he knows well enough that his little smirk already speaks volumes.  
  
Which is just as well that Siwon’s kiss is equally eloquent.

 

\---

 

**au; thor!siwon & loki!kyuhyun **

  
“If you lay a hand on her,” Siwon hears himself say, breath twisting hot in his lungs, “I’m going to kill you.”  
  
That the threat fails to serve its purpose is only too obvious when Kyuhyun all-too-nonchalantly steps into his personal space. “I wonder.” He pauses, head tilted to one side, and all Siwon can think of is that night when he steals a kiss from those beautiful, _beautiful lips_. “Is that because it will be _me_ —and not you—who touches her, or because I will be touching _her_ —and not you?”  
  
Siwon freezes, the words caressing him like poison. Somewhere outside, there is a world that needs a hero, and yet he is caught here, in this place and moment, watching the light shift in Kyuhyun’s eyes.  
  
Kyuhyun smiles. “My foolish elder brother,” he murmurs, trailing a finger along the curve of Siwon’s jaw. Then he leans in and destroys all pretence of distance between them.  
  
The press of his lips on Siwon’s own tastes like ice—and burns like fire.  
  
When Siwon opens his eyes, the ground is unravelling beneath his feet and neither his brother nor hammer is anywhere to be seen.

 

\---

 

**au; client!siwon & prostitute!kyuhyun**

  
“Even if I say that I love you?”  
  
There is a moment of deafening silence before Kyuhyun replies, the lines around his mouth hardening. “That doesn't mean anything.”  
  
“Because I’m married with a baby on the way?”  
  
“Because you're a highly respected man in society and I'm a fucking rent boy. Believe me—you're better off without me.”  
  
Siwon flips them around, his lips curling into a snarl. “You know what? The worst thing is I _do_ know that.” He tightens his grip, bruising the naked body under him as the words scrape past his throat. “And yet here I am, laying my heart down at your feet.”

 

\---

 

**the little things**

  
“Are you alright?”  
  
Siwon smiles, because that is what he does, even in front of the person he loves. But then Kyuhyun reaches down, brushing his bangs away from his eyes, expression tight with concern, and Siwon suddenly wants to cry.  
  
“I’m just tired,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to base of Kyuhyun’s palm. They can afford this, probably, with the entire first-class cabin filled with friends, but no more than this.  
  
“I wish,” Kyuhyun begins, then stops. His fingers tremble slightly as they trace a path back to the crest of Siwon’s forehead. “You still have a fever.”  
  
For the some-hundredth time that day, Siwon stills the impulse to pull his lover into his arms and just hold him close—because the thing a man wants the most is nearly always the thing that destroys him. And so he learns to live with denial, day after day, wandering in every imaginable spectrum of what-if's, and instead of _I love you_ , he says, “I’ve taken something, don’t worry.”  
  
Kyuhyun’s lips thin into an expressionless line. Then his hand falls away, and Siwon experiences a moment of irrational panic. His heart falters. He cannot think. His reaction is purely guided by impulse when he catches the falling hand, fingers clinging to the circle of Kyuhyun’s wrist.  
  
“I love you,” he whispers, because he’s scared, but the list of things they must deny themselves is ever-growing and never-ending—and as long as they still want to fly, to soar even higher, then this is how it’s going to be.  
  
Except it’s worth every risk to see the look in Kyuhyun’s face now, as the words sink in, unmistakable, between them.  
  
“I know.” His smile is faint, but the pressure of his thumb on the centre of Siwon’s palm is gentle enough to substitute for a kiss. “If you need anything, I’m just across the alley, alright?”  
  
Siwon nods. For it’s the little things that matter when the biggest part of your life stands in the way to your happiness. Little things like touches stolen, gazes locked, smiles mirrored—and maybe also something like opening your eyes between one fitful doze and another and finding a paper napkin tucked between the fold of your arms, with the words _I love you too_ scribbled across the white space.  
  
He smiles, heart warming as his fingers trace the hastily scrawled verb. And when he catches Kyuhyun's gaze, he brings the napkin to his lips and kisses the words.  
  
Because in the end, it’s the little things that make life more bearable.  


  
\---

 

 **how deep these bright-eyed feelings run**  
  
  
Of all the things he could do for love, Kyuhyun wondered why he chose to be subjected to this particular torture.  
  
“It’s freezing,” he declared flatly.  
  
“This won’t take long.” Siwon was using one of his most charming and most persuasive tones, complete with a disarming smile which had won him too many battles before they were even fought. Regrettably, these celebrated attributes did not quite have their intended effects on Kyuhyun—who was very grumpy and therefore almost impossible to please. In fact, the only thing the younger man could think about was the wintry coldness which was determined to claw its way into the very marrow of his bones and basically rendered his four layers of clothes useless.  
  
The fact that it was New Year's Day didn't exactly excuse their being stupid, but Kyuhyun did find it very difficult to deny his boyfriend's request, especially with the newborn year barely one hour old. Which was why he now found himself standing outside on the balcony, _at one in the morning_ , for reasons entirely passing understanding.  
  
“If we catch a cold, I’ll make sure that everyone is going to blame you.”  
  
“We won’t,” Siwon replied cheerfully, the very image of bright, warm—not to mention ridiculous—optimism on such a cold night, and then shoved his cell phone into Kyuhyun’s hand. “Please take a picture for me.”  
  
That there was always the slightest chance that Siwon’s phone would be picked up by the loyal, ever-prowling, not-so-harmless fans was the only reason why Kyuhyun stopped himself from tossing the offensive gadget eleven floors down. “And _that_ ’s why I’m here? To take a picture for you?” he said indignantly.  
  
Siwon gave him one of his wounded puppy looks. “Just one picture? Please?”  
  
Kyuhyun gritted his chattering teeth and tried not to be swayed too much by either the eyes or the warmth pressed against his back. “Do I want to know why you can’t take one by yourself?” he demanded.  
  
“I’ll tell you after you take the picture,” Siwon promised, warm breath chasing the coldness on Kyuhyun’s cheek. “Please? Just press the button and we’re done.”  
  
Kyuhyun sighed but obliged at last. He snapped a random picture of the sprawling city at their feet, drenched in light and excitement from the New Year's celebration. He was pretty sure the result could not even be called a picture.  
  
“Now what?”  
  
“Now I’ll do this.” Siwon reached across his shoulders, his equally cold fingers enveloping Kyuhyun's, and set the not-even-a-picture as the wallpaper for his phone.  
  
Kyuhyun was currently trying his best not to look at his boyfriend like he was the most handsome, the most attractive moron in the world.  
  
“You know that I can’t use your photo,” the other man continued, completely unfazed. “But now, every time I see this picture, I’ll think of this moment and remember that you were the one who took it for me on New Year’s Day. And it's one more thing to remember you by because, well, I love you.”  
  
It took Kyuhyun a few moments to process the entire explanation and get over his initial reaction to simultaneously sigh, blush, scream, facepalm, and smile like an idiot. Yes, Siwon often had that effect on him.  
  
“You are hopeless, do you know that?” was his mumbled, drastically less embarrassing response in the end.  
  
“I do,” Siwon admitted, pulling him closer. “Hopelessly in love.”  
  
“See?” Kyuhyun rolled his eyes, but the grin pressed against his lips was a mirror of his own. And he would be content to stayed there in Siwon's arms in the cold, any risk of hypothermia or pneumonia be damned, if not for Hyukjae's voice shouting at them: _It’s friggin' cold and will you two please stop necking on the damn balcony already–_

\---

 

**antithesis; fire-and-ice!au  
**

  
When they touch each other, the world tilts.  
  
Kyuhyun gasps and pulls away. The air crackles between them, heat engulfing ice, tearing into beautiful, pristine crystals only to wither away at the next cold gust of wind.  
  
Siwon grins. “Not bad, princess.”  
  
“Not as bad as you, you mean,” Kyuhyun’s voice whispers ice down Siwon’s spine. It’s a curious feeling, especially for a prince who has known only the warmth of a vibrant sun all his life.  
  
“You do know that as long as I’m still around, you won’t be able to take my city, right?”  
  
“Then the obvious solution is you must die,” Kyuhyun replies coolly, snowflakes dancing on his fingertips. Siwon allows himself a moment to be mesmerised by the sight, but he does not miss the intent of attack, and neatly sidesteps the coming slash.  
  
“So impatient.”  
  
“Stop running away,” the other man growls.  
  
“From you?” Siwon smiles, his twin pistols glowing bright with blazing fire. “Never.”

 

\---

 

 **harbour**  
  
  
It always feels like this.  
  
A smile is such a small, simple gesture, and Siwon is a master at it, wearing one nine times out of ten and suddenly making the world a brighter place. Kyuhyun has seen it only too often, and still this one makes him stop short, defying all laws of repetition. It’s a long day and he’s tired, the weather cold as winter and night join forces to make them as miserable as possible—but then there is Siwon, catching his eyes and smiling as he moves just one step closer and entwines their hands together, palm sliding against palm.  
  
Kyuhyun’s heart trips over itself. Warmth spreads, calm and soothing—and true, the world is suddenly a brighter place.  
  
It never stops making him feel like this, and Kyuhyun likes it that it doesn't.

 

\---

 

 **behind doors; au**  
  
  
“Does he touch you like this?”  
  
Kyuhyun laughs, as mocking and sharp as a glint of a knife’s edge, but the sound dissolves into a moan when the head of Siwon’s cock finds his prostate dead on, painting white starbursts behind his eyelids.  
  
“Who?” he gasps the question, with a coy turn of lips and innocent eyes, once he has caught his breath.  
  
The man hovering above him is clearly unimpressed. “That dog listening at your door,” Siwon says darkly, fingers twisting his hair.  
  
Kyuhyun feels the stretch of a smirk across his lips. “No, not like this,” he drawls, savouring the luxury of each tantalising word on his tongue. “He treats me like glass, gently, lovingly, like I’m the most precious thing in the world for him, and when he touches me–”  
  
Siwon’s growl is all but eclipsed by Kyuhyun’s startled, high-pitched scream when a few more thrusts, hard enough to reach the point of pain, bring him to climax.  
  
“Except this is how you like to be fucked, right?” the rough whisper in his ear is smugly triumphant—and as hotly jealous as the tell-tale warmth trickling down his thighs.   
  
Kyuhyun only smiles, still floating in the black clouds of pleasure. Jonghyun is his, body and soul. Siwon… well, Siwon is another matter entirely.

 

\---

 


	3. Drabble dump (again)

**Siwon/Kyuhyun, FBI!AU, for[](http://philometor21.livejournal.com/profile)[ **philometor21**](http://philometor21.livejournal.com/)**  
  
“Now we'll wait for your partner to join the party.”  
  
Kyuhyun glared at his captors through swollen lids and drying streaks of blood. Being captured by the bad guys was embarrassing enough; being used as bait by said bad guys to lure in one’s partner was downright humiliating.  
  
“You're making a big mistake,” he declared, and immediately winced when the effort of speaking pulled a number of sore muscles, courtesy of the three rounds of beating he had been subjected to earlier.  
  
One of the men grinned down at him. It was a hideous grin, all yellow rotting teeth and patently malicious intent. “I don't think so. You're his little boyfriend, after all.”  
  
Kyuhyun’s mouth snapped shut and he inwardly cursed Siwon in every language he knew—because of course it was the other man's fault. It always was. No wonder they were so confident. They knew ‘his boyfriend’ would try to rescue him.  
  
And he _would_. Kyuhyun almost hated the fact that he had no doubt about it. Siwon would come for him. It was what they were—it was simply how they worked.  
  
“You're _so_ making a big mistake,” he growled.  
  
“Really?” Another one raised his eyebrows, smirking. “So you’ll let just about anyone call you kitten and fuck you up your ass? Not that it doesn’t sound interesting–”  
  
Kyuhyun was about to unleash hell and scream legitimate death threats at his captors, self-preservation and all be damned, when hell suddenly broke loose from another direction. Doors were kicked down, windows smashed, roof collapsed; men in black uniforms stormed in, accompanied by a torrent of “FBI!”s and “don’t move!”s and generally creating such a pandemonium that it put a grim smile on Kyuhyun’s face. Carefully timing his opportunity, he jumped to his feet and proceeded to join the fray, putting in a few kicks to make himself look less like a damsel in distress.  
  
In fact, Siwon looked more like a damsel in distress, upon noticing his condition.  
  
“Kyuhyun!”  
  
“I'm alright,” Kyuhyun cut in sternly before Siwon could drown himself in even more panic and do something potentially catastrophic, like trying to carry Kyuhyun outside in his arms or something. The garbled words which came out of his mouth, however, were completely unintentional. His jaw muscles turned out to be a lot more uncooperative than usual.  
  
“They _hit_ you.” Realisation dawned on Siwon's face and the black fire in his eyes suddenly intensified. Kyuhyun opened his mouth, ready with calming remonstrations, but then changed his mind.  
  
“You,” Siwon declared, pointing at the nearest bad guy as his arm tightened around Kyuhyun, “and your friends are going to spend the rest of your miserable lives in jail. You can be glad of that—because otherwise, I’m going to hunt you and tear you limb from limb.”  
  
“And that,” Kyuhyun muttered with a sigh, “is why it was a big mistake.”  
  
  
  
—  
  
  
  
 **Siwon/Kyuhyun, different nationalities, for[](http://drazen08.livejournal.com/profile)[ **drazen08**](http://drazen08.livejournal.com/)**  
I apologise in advance for cultural butchery and the likes orz  
  
“Cultural differences,” Changmin was saying in his annoyingly pedantic voice. “That is the root of the problem. In his culture, to love means to be willing to sacrifice his life in order to protect the person he loves. It’s simply his tradition.”  
  
That, Kyuhyun reflected with a sigh, actually made a lot of sense. It perfectly explained many of Siwon's bizarre actions for the last three months—which ranged from jumping in front of Kyuhyun's uncontrollable horse to swimming after his boat in a raging storm. Yes, it made absolute, perfect sense.  
  
Except–  
  
“Wait, are you saying that he _loves_ me?” Kyuhyun demanded incredulously.  
  
Changmin shot him a look. It was reproachful enough that Kyuhyun had to glance away, a flush rising to his cheeks.  
  
“I’m just saying that he could have let me know in a... less oblique way,” he muttered.  
  
“That's about as obvious as it gets for his people,” Changmin pointed out with a knowing air. “Now your duty is to put an end to his misery and give him an answer. Loud and clear.”  
  
“How? In case you haven’t noticed, we're not even speaking the same language.”  
  
“For the sake of everything holy—just _show_ him.”  
  
This small, seemingly harmless piece of advice from his best friend—who was also an inveterate traveller and therefore possessor of various arcane knowledge—was the reason why Kyuhyun ended up kissing Siwon that night. After all, no answer spoke more loudly and clearly than a kiss. And yes, he was not indifferent to the man. And this was but one small step toward the unknown future, not a marriage proposal or anything of the sort.  
  
Two days later, he found a long procession of gifts in front of his family’s estate. They were, he found out after much time and effort lost in translation, apparently his _dowry._  
  
“I forgot to tell you,” Changmin managed to say a moment later amidst his bouts of hysterical laugh, “that a kiss on the lips means a proposal.”  
  
Kyuhyun would have killed him if Siwon had not been holding his hand and delivering small, reverent kisses to his knuckles every now and then.  
  
“ _Saranghae,_ ” Siwon said, sweet and gentle and adoring and affectionate all at the same time.  
  
Kyuhyun did not know what that meant, but he sure as hell knew what the butterflies in his stomach meant.  
  
  
  
—  
  
  
  
 **Siwon/Kyuhyun, just the way you are, for[](http://flying-embers.livejournal.com/profile)[ **flying_embers**](http://flying-embers.livejournal.com/)**  
  
“Don’t say a word until I’m done,” Kyuhyun says.  
  
There are times when Siwon finds himself obeying Kyuhyun without question, and this is one of those times. The younger man leads him into their hotel room, fingers lightly entwined with his, smile for once replaced by solemn determination. Curbing his curiosity, Siwon sits wordlessly on the bed and waits.  
  
And then drops his jaw when his boyfriend suddenly falls to one knee in front of him and takes his hands in a firm hold—and begins to sing.  
  
The song is recognisable from the first line. Siwon feels his eyes widen, a smile climbing to his lips as realisation sinks. That it is a love song is one thing; that Kyuhyun sings it to him while kneeling in front of him is quite another. There is no music, only each word blooming gently in the quietness of dusk, carried afloat by Kyuhyun's rich, melodious voice.  
  
Siwon doesn’t need to see into a mirror to know that right now, he is one of the happiest men alive, and all because his boyfriend is singing a ridiculously mushy song for him.  
  
When the song ends, Kyuhyun’s face has turned into an adorable shade of red and Siwon can no longer resist a grin. “Just so you know,” he begins in a mock-solemn voice, “I will choose you over Changmin every time.”  
  
Kyuhyun snorts a laugh. “I think he’ll be relieved to hear that,” he mumbles, hiding his face in Siwon’s lap.  
  
Siwon hums, fingers tangling Kyuhyun’s hair. “How do you know that I’m jealous?”  
  
“This is _you_ we’re talking about,” Kyuhyun replies dryly.  
  
“Guilty as charged,” Siwon admits, though his grin remains unrepentant. “So, just the way I am?”  
  
“Well,” Kyuhyun shifts, now leaning back on his heels, “not as creepy as it is in the song—because it’s pretty creepy, you have to admit it.”  
  
“But?”  
  
“But yes.” Kyuhyun looks up to catch his gaze, eyes steady and clear. “Just the way you are.”  
  
Siwon has to wonder if it is actually possible for his grin to become any wider. “You’re becoming cheesy,” he observes, tapping the side of his boyfriend’s nose.  
  
Kyuhyun smirks. “As it happens,” he points out, leaning up to steal a kiss, “I learn from the best.”  
  
  
  
—  
  
  
  
 **Siwon/Kyuhyun, for Cherry**  
  
“I love you,” Siwon says, fervent and earnest and so fucking honest.  
  
And Kyuhyun believes him. He always does, so it happens again and again and again, like rewinding a movie that breaks your heart back to the beginning and waiting for it to trample over you for the hundredth time because apparently you’re too stupid to do anything else.  
  
The problem with Siwon is he has too much love—and the problem with having too much love is it can never find an outlet in only one person. Sometimes Kyuhyun thinks that Siwon should have been a priest, or a missionary, although an idol with too many fans sort of fits the bill too. He is the happiest when he can pour out love, and when he dies, he will probably become one of those heaven-crowned angels for all the (arguably) selfless love he has showered on humankind.  
  
It’s definitely an illness, but then again, Kyuhyun is severely biased here.  
  
Another problem with Siwon is he doesn’t cheat. Kyuhyun wonders sometimes, but it never grows into a full-bred suspicion because Siwon is simply Siwon. He might play it too close to the line—and hurt Kyuhyun in the process, except he knows that Siwon does it unintentionally and no, knowing that doesn’t actually make it hurt any less—but he will never, ever cross the line, no matter what everyone else whispers.  
  
Kyuhyun knows this because Siwon genuinely loves him. He grins the brightest and looks so fucking happy whenever they are together. And every time he says _I love you, my wonderful, beautiful world,_ it makes Kyuhyun’s heart quiver and hum because Siwon means it like he has never meant anything else in his life.  
  
Kyuhyun believes him. There is simply no other choice, which is why he kisses him back and lets Siwon push him into the bed, wearing a smile like he’s the happiest man on earth (and for the length of that moment, he _is_ ).  
  
One day, he thinks, maybe the magic will be gone and he will be able to stand up and say NO. Or maybe Siwon will come to his senses and decide that he can love the whole world equally and Kyuhyun is in no way special to him. Either way, he will be free and he can finally stop falling.  
  
Not now though; because now the movie has already rolled and everything is pretty, like it always is in the beginning, and he is floating in a rose-coloured world, smiling when Siwon smiles, laughing when Siwon laughs—all the way knowing that heartbreaks are waiting for him in the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh scenes.  
  
It’s the same old movie all over again, but he lets himself fall anyway.  
  
  
  
—  
  
  
  
 **Siwon/Kyuhyun, for Maris**  
This is definitely not a drabble, but THE MUSE insisted, so... >_<   
  
When Siwon arrived at the dorm, it was half past five in the morning. He fumbled for the key in his wallet, hands shaking so badly that it slipped past his fingers four times before the door swung open and revealed a confused Sungmin.  
  
“Siwon? What are you doing here?”  
  
He straightened up and stumbled into the dim-lit hallway, pushing past Sungmin's smaller build. “I came straight from the airport," he rushed through his explanation, eyes already darting to a particular door further down the hall. “Is he here? I haven't been able to contact him since last night.”  
  
Sungmin raised an eyebrow, confusion now even more evident in his face. “Maybe he turned off his phone. He just came back three hours ago from a recording—and it's half past five now, by the way. Is something wrong?”  
  
A little relief trickled through the cracks of his panic and Siwon finally managed a weak smile. “No, not really. I'm just... I want to see him. I know it’s weird, but I just do.”  
  
It prompted an eye roll from Sungmin. “Fine, I won't ask. And I have a flight to catch anyway, so feel free to poke the sleeping lion in the eye if you must.”  
  
Siwon shot him another feeble smile and headed to the door which seemed to be beckoning him. He pushed it open as slowly and noiselessly as possible, and then carefully tiptoed inside.  
  
It wasn't until he had stood by Kyuhyun's bed, watching the steady rise and fall of the younger man's chest, that Siwon allowed himself a long, relieved sigh. He sank to his knees and buried his face in the fold of his arms, taking all comfort he could from the familiar scent of Kyuhyun's room and bed. His fear was foolish, ludicrous, completely unfounded—but its source, the poisonous little thread of thought, had slinked in unnoticed and caught him unprepared.  
  
Siwon blamed exhaustion and a sleepless, restless night spent thousands of feet above the ground. He had been at his lowest point when the plane made its bumpy landing, an ungainly creature blundering in before dawn. The horde of fans waiting at the arrival gate had not helped either. Their cameras, their obsessed eyes, their stubborn determination, ruling even over tiredness and common sense. He had made his escape into the car with a painful smile stretched tightly across his face and a frustrated scream trapped in his throat.  
  
It hadn't been the first time that he had wished for another kind of life. But Siwon was used to it, just as he was used to denying himself the smallest touch or the merest hint of affection toward his lover after the third warning had come from the management. It was astonishing, and more than a little terrifying, to realise that one could actually get used to almost anything.  
  
But then the car had come to that bridge. That accursed bridge. The same bridge which had almost taken Kyuhyun away from him.  
  
Only the thought of it was enough to make Siwon's eyes fling open, seeking for reassurances. Kyuhyun slept like a man who had not met sleep for the longest time. His expression was slack, unguarded, and the black rings around his eyes stood starkly against pale skin. Siwon fought an urge to kiss them; he was a needy, touchy-feely idiot most of the times, but he loved Kyuhyun too much to choose his comfort over Kyuhyun's when it really mattered.  
  
With the lightest caress to a tuft of Kyuhyun's hair, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. One minute later, he was already fast asleep in the comfort of Sungmin's bed, his ears filled by the sound of Kyuhyun's soft snores.  
  
A few hours later he would wake up, still bone-weary and a victim to a pounding headache—but he would find Kyuhyun half-sprawled above him, the warm, comforting weight of his limbs tangled around his own. He would sigh in satisfaction and drape an arm across Kyuhyun's back, pulling him closer, and Kyuhyun would make a soft whining noise but never fully stumble into wakefulness. Not yet.  
  
And then Siwon would smile, because this moment was worth everything.  
  
-  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Taking our picture,” Siwon hummed, trying to aim for the best angle with half of his arm so awkwardly positioned under his lover's chest.  
  
Kyuhyun groaned, sleep still thick in his voice. “I'm gonna look ugly in it,” he protested, making a half-hearted attempt to swat at Siwon's hand  
  
“Don't worry. I'm the only one who will see it and you always look lovely to my eyes.”  
  
This time, the groan was louder. “Stop. It’s too early for your cheesiness, seriously.”  
  
“It’s almost ten.”  
  
“Yeah, too _damn_ early.”  
  
Siwon didn't respond and chose to snap a few pictures instead, grinning at the results. “You look adorable snuggling up to me like that,” he declared, making a point to shove his phone under Kyuhyun's nose.  
  
A pair of bleary eyes glared up at him. “I really hate you right now.”  
  
“I wonder if I should tweet this instead of the usual roads and bridges–”  
  
“And I'm going to _end_ you if that ever happens,” Kyuhyun growled, pinching the side of his stomach. Siwon half-yelped and half-laughed, but managed to keep his phone safely out of Kyuhyun's reach. He knew that it could never be a serious notion, that as long as their successes and failures still depended so much on public opinion, it could only exist on the plane of mere fancy. However, knowing and wishing never had anything to do with each other.  
  
“But one day I will,” he vowed, to himself as much as to Kyuhyun—who had now fallen silent, his face unreadable.  
  
“Because you have to be cheesy in front of the whole world too?” he said at last.  
  
Siwon grinned. “That and one other reason.”  
  
“Whatever,” Kyuhyun muttered, already burying his face in the crook of Siwon's neck. “I'm going back to sleep. Don't move for two hours at least or I’m not talking to you for a week.”  
  
Siwon was about to protest, but then thought better of it and sighed, resigning himself to his fate.  
  
( _Because you're my beautiful world,_ he didn't say—but he knew that Kyuhyun heard it anyway.)

  
  
---


	4. 3 WonKyu Drabbles

**For maaakiki** _(prompt: Siwon is a thief who becomes a cop only to get a chance to work with Kyuhyun)_  
  
“I’m the thief.”  
  
Siwon doesn’t dare to look up for the longest time. All he knows is he is scared beyond belief of Kyuhyun’s reaction, but he cannot lie anymore—not to this wonderful, amazing person who has been his partner for nearly a year now.  
  
The partner he has lied to every single day.  
  
“I know.”  
  
Siwon whips his head up. “You know?” he repeats, stunned.  
  
“I know you’re the thief we’re supposed to catch,” Kyuhyun replies, his tone as calm as if he is merely speaking about the weather, not the biggest secret in Siwon’s life.  
  
“Since when?”  
  
“Five months after we became partners.”  
  
And that is the cue for Siwon to gape. “Why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
“Because I want to know what your intentions are,” the younger man says matter-of-factly, face still carefully blank.  
  
“But for _seven months_?”  
  
A hint of discomfort—and is that embarrassment—appears in Kyuhyun’s expression and Siwon suddenly experiences an epiphany. It hits him like a large boulder on the head and for a moment he wonders if he has gone crazy or is simply hopelessly, irreparably optimistic.  
  
“Kyuhyun,” he speaks again, voice weak and breathless from too much suppressed hope, “I know I’m a liar and absolutely have no right to hope for anything so wonderful, certainly not from you, but is there a chance—the smallest, tiniest speck of a chance—that you could– that you might– that life might be so kind as–”  
  
“Stop talking,” Kyuhyun growls, his tone ominous. Siwon shuts up immediately—mostly because he finds the front of his shirt suddenly grabbed.  
  
And then the left corner of his lips is kissed and suddenly nothing else makes sense but the fact that he has just been kissed.  
  
“You're not angry about it?” Siwon hears himself feebly ask when he has rediscovered the way of speech.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Kyuhyun snaps, but it fails to divert Siwon's attention from the beautiful rosy hue in his cheeks. “I’m so fucking pissed off.”  
  
“But maybe not pissed off enough to kick me out of your life completely?” he asks hopefully.  
  
Kyuhyun looks like that he’s ready to kick him—but the fact that he doesn’t is an answer enough for Siwon. He grins.  
  
“I love you. I really, _really_ love you. Like, I keep doing heists only to keep your eyes on me. And unless you let me be a part of your life, I’ll just continue ‘displacing’ every art–”  
  
“Fine, yes!”  
  
Ten minutes and one really long, thorough kiss later, Siwon decides that it’s all really worth it.

  
  
  
  


—

  
  
  
  
**For maris** _(prompt: the SS5's WonKyu fanservice, feat. Kangin and Donghae)_  


  
Kangin knows that he isn’t part of the argument. He is sitting quietly, drinking lots of water and waiting for his next turn, when Donghae’s voice suddenly rises.  
  
“–if they see it and send you somewhere else again–”  
  
“There’s a reason this time,” Siwon cuts him off. He is leaning against stacked boxes of equipment, wiping drops of sweat off his neck and looking perfectly nonchalant. “Our fanbase here is big. No one’s going to be surprised if I give him some extra attention more than others. All in the name of fanservice.”  
  
“Except the last time you did something like this, they made you pay the price—and I was there, remember?”  
  
Even Donghae’s increasingly annoyed tone fails to puts a dent on Siwon’s jubilant mood. “Relax, would you?” He grins instead. “If anyone’s asking questions, it’s the banner’s fault. We’re only going with the flow.”  
  
Maybe it’s Siwon’s tone of voice. Or maybe it’s his blatant display of confidence, so reckless and brazen like a child-king who thinks that he can conquer the world. And Kangin knows exactly how _that_ feels–  
  
“Until you fall down, crash and burn.”  
  
He sounds angrier than he actually feels, though not by much. Siwon’s face registers only surprise for the first two seconds, but it soon shifts into wariness. Even Donghae is looking anxious as he glances his way.  
  
“It was harmless, _hyung_ ,” Siwon finally opens his mouth, his voice almost contrite if not for the aggressive edge he cannot quite conceal.  
  
“That’s what we always say before the big shit happens,” Kangin shoots back. “No one makes a mistake because they _willingly_ make it. It’s always something else. Something perfectly, seemingly harmless. And the next thing you know, you’re already looking back and regretting that one ‘harmless’ thing you shouldn’t have done.”  
  
None of them says anything for what feels like a very long moment. Siwon looks like he wants to say something hurtful in return, but he is inherently a kind man—and in reality, a much better actor than he is often credited for.  
  
Kangin takes a deep breath.  
  
“Because I know how it feels to sit on the side line and watch everything I could’ve had but cannot, only because of one mistake. So just… think things carefully before you do them, alright? What you have with Kyuhyun is something precious. Don’t risk it only for something like this.”  
  
Perhaps he should’ve expected Siwon’s reaction, but sometimes Kangin forgets how physical the younger man can be. It’s only after he has found himself engulfed in Siwon’s arms that he regrets ever butting into other people’s business.  
  
Just for a moment though. They are, after all, his family, and he loves them.

  
  
  
  


—

  
  
  
  
**For marmice** _(prompt: the man purse)_  


  
Kyuhyun doesn’t like the bag.  
  
That said, he cannot bring himself to care very much about what sort of bag he is using either. This bag suits his needs and he can carry it around easily, so despite the groans and protests he sees every now and then on Twitter, Kyuhyun can pretty much coexist peacefully with said bag until some point in the indeterminate future.  
  
That is, if his boyfriend hasn’t started nagging him about it ever since he found out exactly _who_ gave Kyuhyun the bag.  
  
“He can’t possibly expect you to use that thing every single day.”  
  
“It’ll look suspicious,” Kyuhyun repeats his answer for probably the fifty-seventh time. “Everybody knows that I’m too lazy to switch bags every time I go out.”  
  
“But it looks ridiculous!”  
  
Kyuhyun raises an eyebrow. “You had never said a word until you knew who’d given it to me.”  
  
Siwon scowls at him. “Yes. Fine. I’m _jealous_. There, I’ve said it. Now will you please use another bag?”  
  
A smirk slowly blooms on Kyuhyun’s lips. “I’ve never promised anything of the kind.”  
  
Something very much like a growl comes from Siwon’s throat, but before he can get any word out, Kyuhyun has already relocated himself onto his boyfriend’s lap and had him pinned to the sofa. “He gave it to me as a gift from his new collection,” he explains in a serious tone. “Not to use it is not only disrespectful, but also terribly insulting. Besides, I can’t believe that you’re doubting me.”  
  
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Siwon mutters. “It’s _him_. If you keep using that bag, he’ll probably think that you’re giving him a chance and he’ll get his hopes up and the next thing you know, he’s making advances to you and no, I really can’t have that.”  
  
Kyuhyun cannot help but roll his eyes. “You know, contrary to what your delusional brain thinks, not everyone wants to get into my pants.”  
  
Siwon’s scowl deepens. “I don't need ‘everyone’. One man other than me is already one man more than I’m comfortable with, so your argument is invalid.”  
  
Kyuhyun swears that he can feel his insides melt despite—or maybe especially because of—the murderous look Siwon is wearing. “I love you,” he declares fervently, wrapping his arms around Siwon's neck, “even though you’re cheesy and possessive and get jealous easily.”  
  
“And I love, adore, _worship_ you, Cho Kyuhyun, but that bag–”  
  
Kyuhyun gives up trying make his boyfriend see sense and decides to just kiss him senseless.  


  
  


\---

  
  
---  
  
  



	5. WonKyu EPOCH entries

**Title:** Rustle  
 **Era:** Egypt, 15th century BC (1500 BC to 1401 BC; 18th dynasty)  
 **Historical character:** [Djehuty](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Djehuty_%28general%29)  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Warnings:** Angst  
 **Word Count:** 1118

The first time Kyuhyun saw him, the sight stopped his feet in their tracks.  
  
The man stood in the middle of an empty courtyard, clad in a simple warrior's garb of white linen, belted around the waist. His skin was bronzed by the sun, and yet the colour was unlike anyone he had ever seen. His limbs, strong and long and lithe, moved with the kind of grace and agility seldom present even in the greatest sword-wielders or spear-bearers Kyuhyun had known, as if he was seeing a dream.  
  
And then there was his face—eyes, nose, cheeks.  
  
“He looks a little like you, don’t you think?”  
  
Djehuty had the voice befitting a commander of the Pharaoh’s mightiest army, or so Kyuhyun always thought. He turned around and found the general looking at him with the kind of tender affection which always left him feeling a little shy.  
  
“Who is he?” Kyuhyun heard himself ask instead.  
  
“A man from a strange land,” Djehuty said as he approached with slow, steady paces. “And a most able warrior as far as I am concerned. It was with his aid that I won our kingdom such a swift, resounding victory in the last campaign. He and his men of twenty. They have no master, a purposeless band roaming our borders.”  
  
“A threat?”  
  
A condescending smile curled the general’s lips. “Hardly. Yet, it is more prudent to secure their service for our great Pharaoh than to let them be, unbridled and unchecked.”  
  
“And so you brought him home.”  
  
The smile softened into a warm, genuine one. “I thought you’d be pleased.”  
  
“I am,” Kyuhyun admitted, his eyes wandering once more to the strange figure, still trapped in the strange dance.  
  
  
–  
  
  
His name was Siwon.  
  
Kyuhyun approached him out of curiosity, but their friendship grew out of similarities. It was a call different from any other, of blood and kinship when one saw another who shared one’s physical features. Kyuhyun had lived his entire life being different, a strange child in the cradle of the Nile. The colour of his skin was only the beginning of many.  
  
Siwon shared with him all this strangeness. He also had a strange way to fight and Kyuhyun liked to watch him practice. Every move arrested his eyes in a way nothing else ever had. In return, he taught Siwon their language. They sat in the shade of a sycamore tree, away from the merciless glare of Egyptian sun, and wove magic with words.  
  
Then Siwon taught him his. He had learned the language from his parents—now long dead, once slaves, employed by a cruel master. _You are fortunate,_ Siwon said haltingly, and Kyuhyun knew it was true. He had been a slave, brought into the household as lowest of the low, but he had caught his master’s eyes; now, six years later, he remained Djehuty’s favourite.  
  
 _Abeoji_ , Siwon taught him. _Eomeoni. Sarang._  
  
The words were peculiar, but they rolled off Kyuhyun’s tongue smoothly, like they belonged there.  
  
  
–  
  
  
When something else other than friendship came, it tiptoed in, soundless and unannounced.  
  
Kyuhyun blamed the summer heat and a lazy afternoon filled with oleander-scented air. He had been staring at Siwon’s lips for the better part of the session, contemplating their shape. It was such a curious shape that he leaned forward and had a taste.  
  
Siwon was silent, barely stirring, but a different light came to his eyes. Then he smiled, a slow, gentle smile that burned rather than soothed. It made Kyuhyun look away, snubbed and angry—but his scowl did not last long.  
  
“I didn’t dare to hope,” Siwon confessed, in a language only they understood. His arms were a cocoon around Kyuhyun’s body, warm and protective. “You belong to a very powerful man. I am nothing.”  
  
This time, it was Kyuhyun who smiled.  
  
“Coward,” he whispered, mocking, and then watched in delight as Siwon claimed him and proved him wrong.  
  
  
–  
  
  
They were careful.  
  
Kyuhyun saw at once the need of complete secrecy. Djehuty would strike down anyone who dared to touch him and Siwon had certainly touched him in ways which would ensure death.  
  
Still, it was hard to pretend that nothing was going on. He had never been in love. It made him different. It made _the whole world_ different.  
  
Those were days of unthinking bliss, lost in the scent of incense, scented oil, and each other’s body. They would share a smile across the courtyard or steal a kiss behind a convenient pillar. They would seek each other’s touch and breathe each other’s air while they made love. Some nights, they would sail down the river under a dreaming sky, and the boat would rock gently as Siwon worshipped his body with words and lips and tongue.  
  
And then one day, he was gone.  
  
  
–  
  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
Djehuty watched his advance with a pair of inscrutable eyes. “Who?”  
  
“Siwon,” Kyuhyun growled, fists clenched. “What have you done to him?”  
  
“Who is Siwon?”  
  
Madness seized him. It was the same madness which stirred his blood in Siwon’s presence, except now it was ugly and heavy. Kyuhyun lunged at the general with a shout, but Djehuty was a skilled warrior. Subduing him was a simple affair of twisting his arms behind his back and holding him down on the stone table.  
  
“Who,” Djehuty said again, his voice just a shade angrier, “is Siwon?”  
  
Kyuhyun was too wrecked by sobs to answer.  
  
  
–  
  
  
He waited.  
  
There were days when Siwon was only a dream, a part of his imagination that longed for someone like him. Sometimes he looked around for proofs that the other man had really existed, that such a ghost could not have claimed him the way _he_ had—but even marks faded and kisses waned as time erased.  
  
And then there were days when Siwon was dead. These were the days when he could be angry and storm into Djehuty’s room, accusations dripping from his lips. The general would look at him, the faintest ghost of all smiles over his lips, and Kyuhyun would rail and rage at him—but in the end, he would always let Djehuty push him down to the floor and hurt him however he wanted because Siwon was dead and nothing mattered much anymore.  
  
The days when Siwon probably still lived were the hardest. Because Kyuhyun did not know for sure. Because maybe Siwon was out there and trying to find his way back to him. Because maybe he was not. And so he spent each breath waiting and each heartbeat wondering maybe, maybe, _maybe._  
  
He waited anyway, standing by the river and asking every passing traveller if they had ever seen his Siwon.  
  
Just maybe.  
  
  
 _ **End**_  
  
  


\-----

  
  
  
---  
  
  


**Title:** On the Butcher's Floor  
 **Era:** France, 20th century  
 **Historical character:** [Henri Désiré Landru](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henri_D%C3%A9sir%C3%A9_Landru)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** torture, forced sex  
 **Word Count:** 1264

  


  
“It was all strictly business at the beginning,” a man spoke, his voice slowly crawling into Siwon’s consciousness.  
  
His eyelids were heavy. There was a persistent, throbbing ache at the back of his head, enough to slow and dull. Thoughts were a convoluted mess of tangled strings and fraying ends.  
  
The voice continued to speak. “And it was so easy. They trusted me, these stupid women. They were desperate for men. They saw me and thought, oooh, I’m lucky. You see, men are rarer than diamonds nowadays. And young men like you won’t look at them twice. So when I asked them to come here, they couldn’t say no. Refusal was just unthinkable.”  
  
Siwon tried to swim to the surface of his consciousness. But he couldn’t move. His arms and legs felt numb, restricted. It was only when he opened his eyes that he knew why.  
  
He was bound to a chair and the chair was nailed to the floor. The floor was unfamiliar to him. The room it belonged to was equally unfamiliar.  
  
Then Siwon raised his eyes—and his heart stopped.  
  
“Kyuhyun!”  
  
What came out of his mouth was a garbled sound, the word swallowed by a piece of cloth pressed against his tongue. The realisation that he was gagged was a sharp, blinding flash of panic, but it was nothing compared to what he felt at the sight before his eyes.  
  
Kyuhyun was chained to the wall directly opposite him, five paces away. There were bruises and cuts and burn marks all over his naked body, and his eyes were closed as if unconscious.  
  
Or dead.  
  
“Indeed, they were all strictly business.” The voice came from his left. Siwon whipped his head to that direction and recognised the man who had received him so kindly in his house earlier, sympathetic to his frantic search of a missing lover. “Célestine was an exception,” the man continued, his tone as if in a dream. “She had a really lovely voice, and when she screamed, it was as if the gate of heaven itself shook.”  
  
Then his eyes focused on Siwon, a pair of deep, startling green.  
  
“So is your little boyfriend.”  
  
And his hell began.  
  
  
  
He had never heard Kyuhyun scream like that.  
  
It was a sound from hell. In the dimly-lit, windowless room, Siwon could not escape the horror and that infernal shriek pierced his heart as surely as it did his ears.  
  
Five seconds later, he started screaming himself, shouting every kind of threats and profanities he could think of. The man paid him no heed, his entire focus spent on drawing red crisscrossed lines on the pale white canvas that was Kyuhyun’s skin. The knife was steady in his grasp and he held it skilfully, with the practiced grace of a master painter and his brush.  
  
Kyuhyun was calling his name. Siwon discovered that impotence burned far worse than a bullet wound.  
  
Then it was whip biting into bones, flame licking skins. Kyuhyun’s screams gave way to sobs and Siwon had shouted himself hoarse begging for the man to do it on him instead.  
  
“You see, torture is not necessarily physical,” the man said, smiling at him like a benevolent teacher. “Just listen to those screams leaving your throat and you’ll understand.”  
  
When he was done, Kyuhyun had passed out and Siwon found himself asking God _why, why, **why.**_  
  
  
  
The second time it happened, again Kyuhyun screamed and begged. Again Siwon screamed and begged.  
  
The man continued unbothered, slicing a straining tendon. Kyuhyun continued screaming. Siwon continued begging.  
  
It only stopped when once again Kyuhyun passed out and the only sound left in the room was the chant of a thousand _sorry_ ’s.  
  
  
  
The third time it happened, Kyuhyun stared at him as much as he could. Siwon held his gaze although tears were streaming from his eyes—because he knew it was the only thing he could do. And so he met all that anguish and desperation and accusation in Kyuhyun’s eyes and sobbed _I love you_ ’s behind his gag.  
  
He did not look away.  
  
That perseverance felt like a tiny bit of victory, however absurd or meaningless.  
  
  
  
The fourth time it happened, he had Kyuhyun’s cock inside his mouth.  
  
“Make him come,” the man told him, and plunged the tip of the metal contraption into Kyuhyun’s ass.  
  
Kyuhyun screamed. Siwon worked his mouth like crazy and deafened his ears to all Kyuhyun’s broken pleas because he knew the screaming wouldn’t stop until–  
  
The come in his mouth tasted like betrayal.  
  
  
  
The fifth time it happened, Siwon looked away first.  
  
Kyuhyun wailed his name and the man laughed, a twisted, unholy sound that echoed the Devil’s shriek. Siwon didn’t look up.  
  
It was the last time Kyuhyun would call his name.  
  
  
  
After that, Kyuhyun stopped looking at him. When they were alone, he would be silent and the silence would be ugly and condemning.  
  
It broke Siwon’s heart, but then he remembered that he no longer had a heart.  
  
  
  
The sixth time it happened, Siwon couldn’t even cry anymore.  
  
He simply wished that Kyuhyun would die so he didn’t have to hear those screams anymore.  
  
  
  
But then the seventh time happened and nothing changed.  
  
  
  
And the eighth.  
  
  
  
And the ninth. Tenth. Eleventh. Twelfth.  
  
  
  
Siwon continued praying, but only to pass the time. He knew that no one was listening.  
  
  
  
The thirteenth time it happened, he heard his name.  
  
Siwon looked up by reflex. Kyuhyun was sobbing, but this time it was “Siwon Siwon Siwon” and he was looking at him, and Siwon discovered that he _still_ had a heart because it was breaking all over again and it _hurt_.  
  
The man flew into rage. He drove the hot iron deeper into Kyuhyun’s flesh, and amidst that blood-curling scream, Siwon saw red. He broke out of his bounds, but the man was quick enough to shield himself with Kyuhyun’s body, an iron rod and a knife at each hand.  
  
“Step back, or I’ll kill him,” the man told him, eyes shining with the glint of a madman.  
  
Siwon never took his eyes off his lover. “Then kill him,” he said, speaking each word like an oath. “And after you do, you will have nothing left to protect you. And I will _get_ you. I will slice your fingers one by one. And then I will feed them to you and you will swallow every one of them. And then it’s going to be your toes. And after that bits of your chest and belly until I can get to your intestines and then you will eat those too–”  
  
The man lunged at him with a scream, maddened by his taunts. Siwon met his attack head on, bracing himself against the smothering white-hot pain as both the iron and the knife sank into his flesh. He used everything he could—knees, fist, teeth—because if he were to die like this, then at least he would bring this Devil incarnate back to the depth of hell with him.  
  
  
  
Siwon would have killed him—or they both would have been dead—if not for the appearance of a group of policemen, drawn by the sound of screaming reported for the last forty-eight hours.  
  
Siwon crawled toward Kyuhyun’s crumpled body. They were both broken almost beyond repair, but when he reached out, Kyuhyun still took his hand, and they could still cry and they could still smile and they could still say “I love you” and it was still true.  
  
And that, at least, is one tiny step leading out of hell.  
  
  
 _ **End**_  
  
  


\-----

  
  
  
---  
  
  


**Title:** The Day After  
 **Era:** China, Qianlong Emperor from Qing Dynasty (1793)  
 **Historical character:** [George Macartney, 1st Earl Macartney](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Macartney,_1st_Earl_Macartney)  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Warnings:** Character death  
 **Word Count:** 1499

  


  
It was his first time as 1st Earl Macartney’s guard to protect him overseas. They were to stay for a long period at the beautiful city called Beijing as the first envoy from Britain and his heart throbbed at the thought. He was both excited and anxious, scared the people of Beijing will reject them.  
  
But for now he was mostly anticipating the beautiful sights of China. Siwon inhaled deeply and sought a moment of peace, but pained sound distracted him.  
  
There, a thin fisherman attempted to do a kowtow and upon failing got scolded and slapped by his boss. Siwon looked baffled and then remembered Macartney saying that the people of the Qianlong Emperor were strict in life. It seemed failure was not an option. The teen boy looked defiant, but tried once more, and Siwon actually felt relieved to see him succeed this time. The boy also looked pleasantly surprised by his sudden progress and showed a smile before he caught Siwon's eyes when his boat passed them. They held their gaze for a mere second, but even so, Siwon knew his eyes were pair of beautiful ebony.  
  
It was the first time.  
  
  
–  
  
  
The second time he saw those eyes, it was under the veil of a starlit night, months and months later.  
  
He was ambling along the seashore, crunching sands under his shoes. His head was full of clumsy and so far fruitless attempts of diplomacy. The talk—if it could even be called such—had not been going well. There was an ocean of differences between them, the British and the Chinese, and at every step, the problem of language persisted.  
  
The British entourage largely depended on him and his pidgin Mandarin, which he had learned from his missionary grandfather. Only now that he knew, after seeing the contempt in the royal envoy’s face when he had spoken for the first time, that it was the language of the low people. Slaves and farmers and fishermen. Not of royals and kings—and certainly not fit for his king.  
  
It was useless in a diplomatic mission. Now the Chinese regarded them with mocking eyes, the corners of their lips upturned by contempt. Siwon watched them pretend ignorance and seethed, but there was nothing he could do.  
  
  
The song came out of nowhere.  
  
It made him start and he quickly felt for the assuring presence of his flintlock pistol inside his coat. The song continued, soft and lulling, coming from the row of boats just ahead. He approached, his feet guided by the wistful melody.  
  
A shadow moved—then turned its head.  
  
He saw them again, black eyes on pale face, and this time there were stars in them.  
  
  
–  
  
  
The third time he saw those eyes, they were dead to the world.  
  
It was almost midnight and the men crowded along the port side, their murmurs an anxious hum in the air. Siwon trailed slowly behind his lord as the group parted around them. At their middle was a lifeless body, dressed in rags and drenched in water.  
  
“We fished him out of the sea,” one of the sailors said, but Siwon only saw the unseeing eyes and blackening bruises on a deathly pale skin.  
  
 _Guixian_ , the name sang to him from memory.  
  
“I know– _knew_ him,” Siwon said, voice dull. Only for one night, and now the boy was dead, his body covered by bruises which hadn’t been there two weeks ago. Rage rose in him like a tide. Now he spoke quickly, loudly, as if by speaking and demanding justice he could fill the emptiness—because Guixian looked all wrong, like that, a boy trapped in death.  
  
His lord listened to him but was unimpressed. “Our situation here is precarious enough,” he stated, a small yawn confessing his eagerness to return to bed. “He’s not one of ours. Return the body to his people and let them deal with it.”  
  
Siwon almost punched him in the face but stopped himself at the last moment. Breathing deeply, he looked down at the body.  
  
The stars were dead in those eyes.  
  
  
–  
  
  
The next day, a young woman came for the body. She introduced herself as Guixian’s older sister.  
  
Siwon went with her despite her cold silence at his request. He knew only too well what destitution could do to the dead—and he could not allow that. Guixian deserved at least a decent burial, he tried to explain, only to be welcomed by her unbroken silence.  
  
She brought him to her house. There were three other families living in the same two-roomed space and they all turned away at his approach. The body could not stay, they said to her instead; it was bad luck.  
  
The sister said nothing. They put Guixian in a ramshackle shed with only two walls and a crumbling roof, and arranged for a coffin for the body, all paid by Siwon’s money. He stayed and kept vigil with her, burning candle and incense throughout the night.  
  
“Why do you do this?”  
  
The sudden lifting of her mute veil startled him. She looked at him, dark eyes and darker mourning. “Why do you care?” she asked again. She had the same gentle way of talking as her brother—so unlike, he had noted, the rest of her rough people.  
  
“I met him twice,” Siwon admitted, a pang in his heart at the last word, and told her about the night by the sea. She listened, tears swimming in her eyes.  
  
“He told me about you,” she said after another long stretch of silence.  
  
Siwon’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. “He did?”  
  
“You told him about your country,” she spoke it like an accusation. “About your people. He saw your great ship and talked about leaving. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see the world.”  
  
 _I would’ve taken him_ , Siwon did not say. Instead, he asked, “Do you know how he… died?”  
  
A spasm of pain contorted her face and she fell silent once more.  
  
  
–  
  
  
She left at sunrise and came back with a small bundle and two bowls of thin gruel. Siwon ate his share mostly because he knew he needed to eat.  
  
Inside the bundle were books—old books in frail bindings—and she put them, one by one, inside the casket, next to her brother’s folded hands.  
  
“Our father was a teacher,” she said in a faraway voice he had come to recognise as grief without outlets. “He taught us music and literature. My brother was a brilliant student. He learned well. And sang well too. He had a beautiful voice.”  
  
“I know,” Siwon replied, the words almost caught in his throat. “He sang to me that night.”  
  
She looked at him and for a moment he thought he saw hatred in her eyes, as if she begrudged him this knowledge. But it was gone as soon as the next blink and the shadow of sorrow returned.  
  
“He was unfit for this kind of life,” she stated, her small fingers caressing the rough coffin wood. “Perhaps death is better.”  
  
He wanted to contradict her, but any sort of contradiction was useless now. It was too late.  
  
  
–  
  
  
They buried Guixian at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea—his favourite place, his sister said, for this was where he could look at the horizon and dream.  
  
There was no funeral service. “If you die when you’re young, then you are unfilial,” she said, sadness heavy in her voice. “You don't deserve a funeral service.”  
  
They stayed until the sun was angling to the west. Siwon watched the sea, the people, the country he had come to love and hate with equal measure. He looked at the path Guixian used to tread, the sky Guixian used to watch, and wondered. And wondered.  
  
“Come with me.”  
  
His voice was soft but clear. He looked at her—saw how her surprise overshadowed sadness for a moment.  
  
“Come with you?”  
  
“Yes, come to my country,” Siwon said, rushing through his words as if he was afraid they would vanish. “I’ll be going home soon. The discussion is going downhill—has been for some time. Perhaps our people are not ready for each other yet; we are too different. But you…” He paused, fumbling for suitable words. “You don’t have to stay. You can come with me and see the world. Maybe you’ll have a better life elsewhere.”  
  
She stared at him, hope dancing in her eyes, and he remembered how the stars had danced in her brother’s. The memory was painful, pressing down his heart like the weight of a ghost.  
  
“No.” Her answer was firm, final.  
  
Siwon breathed against the disappointment and asked, “Why?”  
  
“Because,” her voice was soft but her eyes were fierce, “I'm not the one you want to take with you.”  
  
And that, Siwon realised, tears blurring his sight, was the truth. The one he wanted to take with him was the boy who sang to him and laughed with him and made him smile.  
  
And that boy was no longer here.  
  
  
–  
  
  
 _The boy did not run away from him.  
  
He told him his name instead. “Guixian,” he said it like it was part of a song, and when Siwon introduced himself, he smiled and announced, “Shiyuan.”  
  
And the language which had been useless at court now flowed freely from Siwon’s mouth. It was in this language that he talked, listened, understood, and it was in this language that the thin fisherman-boy taught him ways of his people, in songs and verses and anecdotes.  
  
Perhaps, Siwon wondered, perhaps it was for this that his grandfather had taught him the language. Not for the great deeds in matters of state, but simply to communicate with a person who mattered. And as he listened to Guixian and watched the field of stars in his eyes, he thought, **maybe I came here to meet you**.  
  
The words settled deep in his heart, a promise unsaid. He promised to come and meet him again in two weeks instead.  
  
They still had the future. And the day after. And the day after._  
  
  
 _ **End**_  
  
  


\-----

  
  
  
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	6. Kyuline Shenanigans 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because [Chokyu's tweeting about food and kyuline](https://twitter.com/GaemGyu/status/487246949146308608/photo/1) is just too precious ;;
> 
> And because I'm whipped /hides

“How is he?”

Changmin cracked open an eye and looked down at the mop of brownish-red hair leaning against his shoulder. “Dead drunk,” he answered matter-of-factly, glancing at Minho who was sitting at Kyuhyun’s right. They were all cramped into the backseat of a car after the dinner party, with a manager behind the wheel. “No wonder, after so many bottles.”

Minho’s eyes caught his gaze over Kyuhyun’s head. “Is today for the usual reason again?”

“What else,” Changmin muttered under his breath, arm tightening instinctively around the unconscious bundle that was his best friend. On a strictly personal level, he had no problem with Choi Siwon—except when he did. Which was pretty much every time Kyuhyun ended up drunk because of that man he called his boyfriend.

“At least they’re not fighting this time.” There was a pause, and then Minho added cautiously, “Are they?”

“Nah. This stupid blockhead just misses him, that’s all.”

Relief was evident in Minho’s face. “That’s good to hear.”

Changmin frowned. “No, actually it sucks.”

Minho laughed, snuggling up at Kyuhyun’s other side. “That’s what you always say, but you never say no whenever he needs you to lend an ear.”

“As if you’re any different,” Changmin shot back, embarrassment sharpening his voice.

Minho shrugged. “I just want him to be happy.”

Changmin snorted. “You’re so whipped.”

“At least I admit it,” Minho pointed out with a grin.

Changmin was too busy being in denial to think of a decent reply.

  


**_End_ **

  



	7. The Way of Pasta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small something to familiarise myself with writing again. 
> 
> Blaming [this](https://twitter.com/dancingberry/status/553827995790499842/photo/1) so much.

For the millionth time, Changmin wonders if he did the right thing by introducing the two.

A week ago, it seemed to be a pretty harmless idea. Kyuhyun needed money for some textbooks and college stuffs. It was only logical for Changmin, who had been working at this pasta place for the last three months, to help him earn that money. It’s a relatively new restaurant, only twenty minutes away from their campus, and the owner/chef is a decent guy who pays a decent wage. Adding his best friend to the mix did not seem to be the recipe of any catastrophe.

How little did he know.

“Shut up.”

Changmin raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m still going to kill you when this day’s over,” Kyuhyun growls.

“Hey, at least I got you a job.”

“ _Exactly._ ”

Changmin observes his best friend—who at the moment is wearing a pink bunny suit, complete with an adorable fluff of a tail cushioned on his plump butts—and fails to maintain a stony expression. A grin stretches across his lips.

“Will it help if I say that at least you look adorable in it?”

Kyuhyun looks ready to commit murder when the door leading to the kitchen opens and out walks the proprietor of the place.

“It’s almost time,” Siwon says almost absentmindedly to Changmin, before catching a sight of the pink masterpiece of whom he is fully responsible. “Kyuhyun!” His face immediately brightens and his eyes gain this adoring look at which Changmin tries so hard not to cringe. “You look absolutely lovely in that suit.”

“I look _ridiculous_ ,” Kyuhyun snaps, colour rising to his cheeks. 

“Still the loveliest being in my eyes,” Siwon declares, kissing the back of a pink fluffy hand. Changmin chokes. Hysterical laughter is bubbling up his throat but he keeps it down with all his might, knowing that his friend can be one mean, vindictive little bitch.

“Should we open the place now, boss?” he asks after clearing his throat, ignoring the venomous glare thrown his way from Kyuhyun’s direction.

“What? Yes, of course,” Siwon answers brightly before bestowing another kiss on Kyuhyun’s hand. More whispered declarations of love follow and Changmin quickly escapes to the front of the shop before he gets involved in the mess.

He does wonder, though, if Kyuhyun realises that _he_ isn’t exactly putting up any real resistance.

 

**_End_  
**


End file.
